Brothers
by Dream-Flutist
Summary: "Tell us a story!" "The one about the brothers!" "You know, they say that as long as someone remembers you, you never truly die."


_So after so many years, I finally return. I have to say, I've never disappeared from anything as long as I've disappeared from this site. Well, hopefully the time away has done something to improve the mess that was my writing. I hope nobody gets mad that I posted this instead of fixing up my Naruto stories. Those need major TLC, and if you haven't read them, please don't.  
_

_This piece is something I wrote after discussing a headcanon of mine with a friend. The headcanon is that the song from the 2003 anime, Brat'ja, is actually a Drachman folk song, based off of the story of the Elric brothers, from which the song was derived._

_Therefore, this story is based off of the 2003 anime... Which, admittedly, I never finished watching. However, nothing is a spoiler in the FMA fandom at this point, I guess._

_Sorry about the awkward 'break' thing, nothing else would work, and I didn't want to use a line break. Stupid formatting..._

_Anyways, onward with the story._

* * *

In a small, rickety old home, in a small, rickety village in the large, unforgiving country of Drachma, a gaggle of children were excitedly gathered in front of their grandfather. Near them, a fire blazed merrily, and in a room over, the adults (save the grandfather) were all gathered around, boisterous in their gaiety and festivity. A celebration was afoot, and every last family member had gathered in the cozy little home to celebrate. It was, in fact, a common enough occasion-with the harshness of the winter, the family (and, indeed, most of the others in the country) were prone to celebration at the slightest cause. As all good, celebrations, this celebration had gone well into the night, and the children were soon bored of the talk of adults, as children are wont to be, and so they'd gathered themselves around their grandfather in hopes of a story, for grandfathers, as most young ones know, are the best sources of stories.

"Grandfather! Tell us a story!" Demanded one young boy.

"Please Grandfather? Pretty please?" Pleaded a girl.

"Tell us one about dragons!" Exclaimed a different boy.

"No, tell us a love story!"  
"Ew! No one wants to hear your icky love stories, sis!"

And, as young children do, the group began bickering. One girl wished for a story of adventure, a boy wanted a story with many battles. The children tossed about ideas, from the mundane to the magical. The grandfather watched over the exchange for a moment, before shushing the children.

"I have a very special story for you tonight. I learned it long ago, when I met a young bard who had recently come home from Amestris. Would you like to hear it?"

The children's eyes grew wide, and an interested murmur passed through the group at the mention of the neighboring country. To the children, the country of Amestris was but a myth, for none of them were yet old enough to have made the long journey south and past the border and into the warmth of the other country. Stories from Amestris were, therefore, few, and were always exotic and magical. The children loved to be dazzled by the power of the infamous alchemists, though at their young age, most of them didn't grasp the power the very alchemists they were awed by could wield.

The grandfather considered the hushed children before him, before smiling gently. "Yes, I think this story will do quite well. There is, of course, a song to go with it, but you will have to ask someone else to sing it." He chuckled to himself, before continuing, "Once, not too long ago, there were two brothers…"

_break_

"Alright, my little princess, it's time for bed." In a cozy little home, in a rickety village, in the large, unforgiving country of Drachma, a young father attempted to get his young daughter to bed.

"But Papa, I'm not sleepy!"

"You say that, yet you yawn!" As if on cue, the young girl was stifling her yawn.

"Papa, you gotta finish the story though!"

"Oh?" he questioned, "Which one was it again?"

"Silly Papa! The one about the brothers!"

"Oh, that one! Where were we, again?"

"The brothers were going on a train to the capital!"

"Ah, yes, I remember." The young father said thoughtfully. "If I tell you more of the story, will you go to bed?"

"Yes, Papa!"

"Alright," He acquiesced, "you win. I'll tell you more of the story."

His daughter let out a cheer, and he observed her with a smile.

"From the train, then? Well, the brothers had decided it was time to move on from their home village, and so the morning after they decided to leave, they did just that, and boarded a particular train… Little did they know…"

_break_

In a quiet corner of a rowdy bar, in a rickety village, in the large, unforgiving country of Drachma, sat a pair of bards. One picked absently at the strings of a small harp, the other hummed quietly to herself as she sipped some tea and watched her partner doodle around on her on her harp. Suddenly, though, one of the merrymakers at seated at the bar noticed the two musicians in their midst.

"I know exactly what this night needs!" Exclaimed one man. He was inebriated, slightly, enough to make him boisterously happy, and enough to make him want everyone else to enjoy his buzz. "You two in the corner! Play us something, why dontcha? We'll pay the rest of your drinks if you give us a few songs. How 'bout it?"

The fellows of the inebriated man (also tipsy themselves) seemed to agree heartily with their fellow's sentiments, and added their own offers of payment into the mix.

The two young women exchanged a look. It wouldn't hurt, the harp player's face seemed to say.

"What would you like? We are but a harp and two voices, our sound is quiet mellow. I doesn't seem something like what you crowd would want."

One of the men laughed. "We're drunk! We don't care what you play, we'll enjoy it! Play your favorite or something."

And so the two young women began their first song. The harper began an arpeggio, and the other began to sing, "_Prosti menya, mladshiy brat! Ya tak pred toboy vinovat. Pyitatsya vernut' nyelzya togo, chto vzyala zyemlya…_"

_break_

In a grand concert hall, in the large, unforgiving country of Drachma, sat a group of very important people. The leaders of both Drachma and Amestris were gathered here to celebrate the treaty between their two great countries. Tonight would be a special performance, for an orchestra of Drachman origin was playing, for the first time in front of an audience, a symphony based on the famous tale of two Amestrian brothers who were to live forever on in the story and song of their journey.

The program listed the symphony's name as "The Brother's Symphony," and stated that the movements would be The Mistake, Brothers, The Journey, and Eternity.

The audience would begin to settle in soon, but before then, formalities between the group of very important people had to be observed.

The leader of Drachma, a stern-looking, older woman, greeted the leader of Amestris, a young man with dark hair and light eyes and pale skin. Behind the young man stood a man many years bother leaders' senior, who had also dark hair once, though it was long turned white. One of his eyes was covered in a heavy patch, and he wore a decorated military uniform.

"President Mustang, we appreciate your attendance to this event. I hope you will enjoy it."

The young man smiled. "I'm very happy to be here, at such a phenomenal event, President Volkov. My grandfather and I are very pleased to be here."

The Drachman leader addressed the older man, "General Mustang, I'm glad you could make the journey. I hope the performance doesn't disappoint." She smiled curtly.

The hall was filling up now, and so the prestigious ones took their seats, and the performance soon began.

The younger Mustang was not surprised when his grandfather quietly excused himself halfway through the second movement and did not return for the rest of the show.

_break_

In a city torn in half, two brothers were separated by an iron curtain.

They were as young as the day they'd entered the world.

"You know," Edward said, "They say that as long as someone remembers you, you never truly die."

A young girl sat next to him. Her dark hair was kept in two neat braids down her back. She glanced up from her toy and asked, "Is that true, Ed?"

Edward hummed thoughtfully. "It could be, I suppose…"

"Hey Ed?" The little girl poked the young man in his side, "Can you tell me the story again? The one about the brothers?"

Ed smiled sadly. "Yeah, I guess I can. Once, a long time ago, there were two brothers…"

* * *

"_Prosti menya, mladshiy brat! Ya tak pred toboy vinovat. Pyitatsya vernut' nyelzya togo, chto vzyala zyemlya…_"  
Forgive me, little brother, I am so sorry before you. It's forbidden to try to return one taken by the earth.

_That translation is only as right as the lyrics wiki was as of April 1st, 2015._

_I know that the 2003 anime dumps the brother into our world during WWI. The jump to the era of the Berlin Wall, and the agelessness of the brothers, is meant to imply that they've been made immortal by the people in their home world who still remember them, even if it's only in the form of a folk song and story._

_Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little piece. It hasn't been edited by a second pair of eyes yet, so if you see anything wrong, please do mention it. _

_~Dream_


End file.
